Doll
Your misshapen fingers slide apart
My ribs search the whispering pulse
For philosophies unkept
Invasive, your desire
To vilify me
To remake me
Beautiful
Silent
Yours
=
Starve
His rubber tongue wraps around her throat
A language of gross distortions
Of post-coital promises
Sensible to no one
Except the dreamer
She wants for love
He wants sex
Both hearts
Starve
When I think “inspire” I think of it as an invocation to write. This song makes me want to dig inside my own bowels and create grotesque poetry, poetry that exposes my inner nature, poetry that exposes the monsters I tend, poetry that exposes the diseases I cater. Some of the music I love isn’t conducive to writing, I need to be able to feel the music without fully hearing it, to know it in my bones and not be swept into a catchy distracting chorus. This song has the perfect ambiance in many respects, it has visceral pain, darkness and the grit that my mutilated muse thrives on.
(I realize I skipped one and I am way off lol)
mindlovemisery 